


i am made unreal

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, M/M, Mental Instability, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is beginning to think he will be here forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am made unreal

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #76: Insanity

Dean's smiles were sad these days.

Something weighed on him, like the proverbial planet resting on Atlas' shoulders. Everything about him seemed so much heavier than it used to, his words and his expressions and the way he carried himself, like every morning brought with it a new defeat to face. Castiel ached to know what was wrong, wanted so badly to be able to help, even if all he could do was share some of the burden.

But he was stuck here, in this small facility with its white walls and plain clothes. So many times after Dean left Castiel had tried to fly after him, to spread his wings and follow their bond to its other half, but every attempt had failed. He had come to the conclusion that there must be wards in place to prevent his escape, though why anyone thought the angel of solitude might be dangerous enough to lock away was beyond him. He didn't want to cause any trouble, the way many of his brothers and sisters did; all he wanted was to go home with Dean.

Every time Castiel tried to tell Dean about the angel warding, Dean would just shake his head and say, “There are no wards, Cas,” his face crumpled and miserable. Since Dean was a hunter, he _must_ have checked for wards; did that mean something else was keeping Castiel here? Something even a keen hunter wouldn't be able to see?

Castiel had been alive for thousands of years, but it was only after the recent months spent in this place that he felt truly tired of having lived so long. He had no freedom, hadn't felt his wings stretch in the wind for so _long._ And Dean just kept getting sadder and sadder, as if the longer it took Castiel to find a way out of here, the more Dean felt there was no hope it would ever happen.

“I'm an angel of the Lord, Dean,” Castiel pleaded one day as they sat together over a human board game, neither at all invested in the movement of small plastic pieces. “But no matter what I try, I can't get out of here.”

So many times Dean had joked about that title – _you're the only angel for me, sweetheart_ – but now his dearest friend just turned his face away, eyes glinting in the overhead lights.

 


End file.
